The Terrors of Arthur
by Lil-Doitsu
Summary: Arthur has been known for hallucinations; flying mint bunny, Uni the unicorn and beloved fairies. But when Arthur picks up an old nasty habit, the rainbows and sunshine are ripped out and are replaced with dark and grotesque images that would drive the most stable man to his knees. Will Arthur be saved from this? Does he even realize he needs saved from this bloody path he'll walk?
1. Lunacy

The room was dimly lit by an oil lamp. It rested on a mahogany desk in a study fashioned with relics of Old English culture, books and paper strewn about the room. Books lay discarded with pages ripped out and spines bent. It looked as if a hurricane struck the small quarter and left nothing but chaos in its wake. A man in his 20s sits at the desk, his face in his dirty palms as he murmurs to himself furiously.

"Why? Why can't they see? Why don't the others see them?!"

The man looks down at his filthy palms, his pupils dilated as his hands quiver with anger. He then rakes his blond mop and glares at the knocking door. A man of thin frame and fair silk hair, tired up in a blue ribbon entered the room. His blue-violet eyes were laden with grief as he looks upon his English friend.

"Arthur, you have been locked up in your study for days. Why won't you let me help you mon ami?"

Arthur swung his arm blindly towards the approaching Frenchman, knocking down a stack of books, now scattered along the floor next to his desk.

"Get out of here! You damn frog! Can't you let an old dog lie?"

Arthur growls to the now stone faced man. The man would usually counter the sour black sheep, but this was not the time for games. His shoulders shook with anger as he saw the once regal man reduced to shambles.

"Glad to know you didn't forget me. You damned fool, you swore to me you stopped. That you put that part of your past behind you."

The man slammed his hands down on the desk, not even startling the lethargic Englishman who refused to meet his friend's gaze.

"Look at me Arthur! Look at me, your friend Francis, and tell me you're not using again!"

Arthur scowled cynically at Francis with his blackened emerald eyes and smiled crookedly. He then stood up and looked Francis in the eyes and scoffed him.

"Depends, do you see the walls peeling like decaying flesh off a corpse?"

Francis slammed Arthur down with his fist and sent him to the floor with a loud 'thud'. His eyes swam with anger and betrayal. Arthur sat on the floor, scorn stricken his bruised face. He spat in Francis' direction and wiped the blood from his mouth. He was sick of being treated like a lunatic, how could the others not see these horrible things? How many sleepless nights had he endured of the terrors of his mind haunting him in his solitude? It didn't matter what he said or what he did, it all ended the same.

Francis sighed and looked down at the broken man below him. What had happened to his friend? What had happened to the sarcastic, insufferable, kind man that once stood beside him? Francis knelt down to Arthur and placed a strong hand on Arthur's slumped shoulder.

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"You know what, I'm taking your hallucinogens and I'm going to rid you of them once and for all. Then I'm going to take you to a doctor."

Arthur's faced became twisted as he clenched his fists. He then shoved Francis away and stood above him. This damn git thinks he's high as a bloody kite or worse mad! This man he once called friend was like the rest. Arthur stared at his hands; thick black soot caked them and the smell of smoked earth. Tears rolled down his face as he looked down, realizing his options. There was no way to escape this hell he was living. He had little options left; either he let himself be condemned to a padded room or fight. Arthur quickly grabbed the lamp from his desk, and before Francis could parry, Arthur struck him in the head. The room was soon engulfed in flames as the lamp crashed to the floor. Francis lay unconscious at his feet as Arthur shrunk back away from the flames that licked at him.


	2. Ch 1 Extended Stay

One year earlier

Arthur sat in his seat at the meeting in a ballroom in New York, NY. He wore his finely pressed Gieves & Hawkes suit; a dark single breasted two button jacket, cut in a style that presented his strong shoulders and sculpted waist with his dark trousers were cut in a contemporary style. Arthur drummed his fingers on the table as Alfred prattled on about his old military campaigns. Arthur lets his eyes roam the ballroom and paused at each of the faces in the room. To his far left sat a man with dark shoulder length hair that was pulled into a side ponytail. His face was equally thrilled to hear Alfred jabber as Arthur's. The man looked to be in his twenties, but his eyes seem so much older, as if the chap had been around for centuries. Arthur shook the idea out of his head as he tried to remember the fellow's name. If he wasn't mistaken the man's name might have been Yao, Yao Wang. Yes, Arthur was sure of that. The man did indeed look to be from one of the orient. He watched as the sharply dressed Yao yawn in boredom and rest his head on his hand.

Yao grew rather bored listening to Alfred yammer on and on without end. He was more worried about when lunch would be than the actual task at hand. This meeting was supposed to be a gathering of representatives of nations to try to resolve the issues that their world faces, not to listen to some young blood who thinks he's the next military prodigy. Yao sighed and looked around for a clock to see how close this torture would come to an end, but instead he found the harsh emerald eyes of Arthur staring at him. Yao shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he sat up straight, hoping that Arthur would stop staring. When he went to see if the gaze left him he sighed with relief.

Arthur quickly moved on to looking at other members of the representatives. It was embarrassing to be caught staring at someone so readily. He felt like a damn fool, but there was no point worrying over it now. Arthur fidgeted about with his cufflinks in boredom as he looked at more faces in the room. He saw a German fellow chatting with his Italian cohort. The Italian seemed to have a far off look on his face with a simple smile across his face, as if his mind had taken vacancy of the meeting being held. If only Arthur could be so lucky to be so carefree. He continued to look around the room full of representatives until his neighbor jabs him lightly in the rib.

"Mon ami, it is rude to let your eyes wonder the room so freely. Besides what view could be better than my beau visage?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and smirked at his neighbor Francis. Talk about being full of yourself, Arthur swore that if Francis could he'd just marry himself. Francis was indeed handsome but he was more than just looks. The man knew his way around a kitchen and a woman as well. Arthur could recount many nights where he had to drag his friend home drunk to keep him from sleeping with any woman that had a pleasing figure.

"Get over yourself frog, when do you think this damn git will realize no one is even listening? I mean even the representative of Japan looks like he might actually disagree with Alfred for once and tell him to can it."

The two friends laugh as they watched poor Kiku struggle to get a word in between Alfred's boastings. Francis sighed and leaned back in his chair, he wore a French Connection slim fit petrol blue single breasted textured suit that shown off the Frenchman's athletic frame. Francis was aware of his looks and charms and tends to use it to his advantage. He was a man who loved being the center of attention and makes it well known as well. It was seldom that Francis was out of the loop. He was always in the know with the latest dirt. And why not? He was a born communicator; he was able to talk to anyone and everyone with ease. Unless they bored him of course, but even though he is known for his ways of taking things out of context he was indeed Arthur's most trusted friend that he fought with at least once a week.

After the dreadfully long meeting that went nowhere, Arthur retreated to his hotel suite to look over his paperwork. His jacket laid on his bed as he loosened his tie from his collar. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he felt so tired from hearing that idiot babble. He sighed as he pushed away his papers and leaned his chair back. He really needed to unwind, but he was too lazy to leave his room to find Francis to go bar hopping with. Besides, he needed to stop drinking so much. He didn't want it to become another unhealthy addiction on his list. His drug abusive past still haunted him at times. He shivered at the thought. Though not all of it was bad, he had some pretty wild times with his brother when they swore they could see and smell flying chocolate mint bunnies. Arthur laughed at the memory and smiled wryly. It wasn't worth the stress and worry he placed on Francis, especially the day things got way out of hand. Arthur shook the memory from his head and looked at his phone. 22:30. Damn it was already that late? Arthur grumbled at himself for not finishing his paperwork, and left for his shower so he could retire to his bed.

Arthur found himself looking into the void, the taste of sulfur still seared in his nostrils. It was hard to stomach the stench as Arthur crept deeper into the darkness, groping for anything to steady his gait. His hand was met with the hot touch of an iron rod that seared his flesh. Arthur hissed in pain and recoiled his hand back. The stench of brunt flesh made him nauseas. Arthur gasped as he felt a tight grip around his throat and torso. The once bleak void crackled to life with dark green bolts as he struggled. He could hear sizzling of heat against his ear and began to thrash about only for his unseen bindings to pierce his flesh. Arthur began to cough and choke on his own blood that filled his lungs. He looked to the sky, praying for salvation, but instead was thrown down a pit of everlasting screams of the dying and the lame.


End file.
